


At Least We Can Hold Hands on Main Street

by womenseemwicked



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1980s, Basketball, Closeted Character, Closeted Trans Character, FTM Billy Hargrove, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Trans Character, nothing supernatural going on whatsoever au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womenseemwicked/pseuds/womenseemwicked
Summary: Billy may've known he wasn't like "other girls" from a hell of a young age, but it's the '80s in Regan's America. What the hell would he want to come out about that shit for?an au in which I attempt to make Billy being a closeted trans guy (sporty and kinda butch but still very much female-presenting) during the '80s into absolute fluff? spoiler alert, it involves befriending and then boyfriending a sweetly confused but open-minded horny bi disaster Steve Harrington.
Relationships: Steve Harrington & Billy Hargrove
Comments: 11
Kudos: 47





	At Least We Can Hold Hands on Main Street

If Billy hadn’t already wanted to try out for a sports team when he first moved to Hawkins, the absolute shit-show he sees on the court during lunch on his first day would’ve been enough to make him consider it. The number of air balls he sees in the half hour he’s watching alone has him caught between horror and delight. Because he might not be tall enough — 5’ 9” is only tall _for a girl_ — or flat-chested enough, have the right _chromosomes_ , to even have warranted a second glance in California, but this team might actually be desperate enough to win that they’ll give him a shot at showing them he can _play_.

Try-outs are that day, after school, and Billy doesn’t even bother asking the coach to unlock the girls’ locker room so he can change. Instead, he quickly changes in a bathroom stall across campus and jogs back over in time for the rest of the guys who’re trying out to all be congregated in the gym.

Twenty blank faces turn to look when the door slams shut behind him, and murmurs of confusion begin almost instantly. It’s only a second before the first catcalls begin.

“Hey, who brought his girlfriend to try-outs?”

“Oh, shit, do we get cheerleaders on the first day?”

Billy takes a seat on the bottom bleacher, a good distance from the poor idiots he’s about to destroy, and starts stretching. As much as he can, anyway, without making the comments about his tits and ass even worse.

The door he came in through opens again, and in walks the coach, already barking orders in a lazily authoritative tone.

“Alright, up and at ‘em! One lap around the court before we start! On your feet—”

Billy stands and throws a glance over at the gaggle of staring guys, but none of them have started running either. Finally, the coach seems to notice him and frowns.

“You lost, sweetheart?” he asks, and as much as Billy wants to hurl at the nickname, at least the asshole sounds disinterested in his own question. Billy stands up straight and shakes his head.

“Here to compete, sir,” he says. “Same as these dipshits.”

The coach coughs out a laugh at that, seeming to approve of his assessment.

“You won’t cry if you don’t make the cut will you?” he asks, squinting.

Billy resists the urge to roll his eyes and shakes his head again.

“I won’t cry, but I will make the cut. Sir.”

The coach raises an eyebrow, and Billy can hear the meatheads mumbling to each other behind him, but after a moment he shrugs and claps his hands together loudly.

“Well then so be it!” he shouts to the room at large. “One lap! Let’s get this over with!”

Billy doesn’t give him a chance to change his mind, skipping into a run as most of the guys behind him grumble and fall in. A couple hang back, though, even as he reaches the opposite end of the court.

“But coach, she’s—” one of them complains loudly.

“Fuckin’ _hot_ , dude. What’re you, _gay?_ Let her hang around,” one of his buddies points out, stumbling into a jog to join the rest of them. The other guys laugh in agreement, and Billy fights back the urge to start throwing punches already.

 _If one of them tries to go for it, he’s dead_ , he reminds himself, letting a couple of the faster boys pass him. _Save your fuckin’ energy._

“Turnbull, Hagan, if you can’t understand a simple order like take a lap, feel free to make my job easier and see yourselves off my court. Hustle!”

At that, the last of the holdouts join the rest of them just as Billy finishes his lap.

One of them goes to smack his ass as they pass him, and manages to get his feet tangled up in the guy behind him’s, tumbling to the squeaky wood floor almost as soon as he’d started jogging. The guy who tripped him — cause Billy can see now it was _definitely_ on purpose — flashes Billy a smile that sets his heart to double-time and runs a hand through thick brown hair. He hops over the fallen asshole and comes to a stop by Billy.

“You alright?” the pretty boy asks as Turnbull swears and limps off the court behind him, grudgingly aided by the coach.

Billy pushes a loose, sweat-damp curl off his forehead and nods.

“Thanks,” he says, taking a seat on the wood floor with the rest of the guys to get in a couple more stretches before they start.

Pretty boy sits down right next to him and gets to stretching too. Billy doesn’t know whether to be grateful and flattered or threatened and annoyed.

“So you’re really trying out then?” he asks, and at least he seems to be leaning more towards impressed than territorial and stupid.

Billy simply nods and switches to a different stretch.

“You’re the new girl from California, right? Elizabeth?”

Billy raises an eyebrow.

“This town really is that small, huh?” he answers.

Pretty boy laughs a little and shrugs. _Yeah_.

“Well, I’m not getting in your way then,” he continues. “If you’re from California, even a g— anyway, you’re probably better than most of the assholes here.” He switches stretches and holds out his right hand for Billy to shake. “I’m Steve, by the way. Harrington.”

Billy licks a bead of sweat from his upper lip and takes the offered hand in a firm shake of his own, clearly impressing his new best friend _Steve_.

“Hargrove,” he says. “And it’s _Billy_ if you don’t wanna get hit. _Not_ Elizabeth.”

Steve smiles that sweet smile that leaves Billy feeling so breathless again, and laughs softly.

“Billie it is, then,” he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just gonna put this out there in case anybody's thinking about commenting to ask me to change the category:  
> Billy presenting female in public does not make this an M/F relationship.  
> no, I will not be changing the fic category to abide by anyone else's understanding of what makes someone "technically" a man. Billy is a guy, he just looks different.  
> trans men are men blah blah blah

**Author's Note:**

> update: I really earnestly did/do want to write more in this universe, as a reluctantly fairly fem-presenting transmasc myself it was rad af to write something with this kind of vibe, but unfortunately all the steam I had for writing ST fic appears to have finally run out after three years in the fandom, and it seems unlikely that I'll be coming back to this any time soon. that said, absolutely still feel free to comment, or write your own things/make art of this au, I'd love to see it if anyone did something like that!


End file.
